


February Fiction Fest

by happyeverafter72



Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Bees, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Old Married Couple, Sherlock Holmes's Retirement, Sussex Retirement Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 9,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29135154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyeverafter72/pseuds/happyeverafter72
Summary: A collection of retirement era Holmes/Watson fluff for a February challenge I made up myself. Expect lots of cuddling, kissing, old men in love, and bees. Also posted on imagine-granada-holmes on Tumblr.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 24
Kudos: 73





	1. Telling the bees

**Author's Note:**

> Today's prompt is 'telling the bees'. Holmes is not a superstitious man (far from it), but he can't resist telling the bees before he asks Watson to retire with him.

It was in the June of his first year in Sussex that Holmes rose especially early one morning. The sun had risen, and the sky was steadily lightening as he sat down to his breakfast in his kitchen. He felt a slight flutter of nerves low down in his stomach, although he was sure this was entirely nonsensical. 

Once he had finished breakfast, he made the trip down the garden to tend to his bees. As had become his habit, he talked to them as he checked the screens in the hive. 

“Good morning, my dears,” he murmured as he lifted the lid of the first hive. It was not yet warm enough for them to be terribly active, so he did not have to use his smoker on them. “I know it’s rather earlier than normal, but I promise I have a good reason.” 

He paused to closely inspect one of the screens. The bees were doing good work. 

“You see,” he continued, “today I’m going to ask Watson to join me down here. You will like him, my dears. He is the kindest, bravest, and most loyal man I have ever had the good fortune to meet. I love him very much, bees, and I’m lucky enough that he loves me in return.” 

He smiled to himself as he continued his work. When he has finished, he took a steadying breath. 

“Wish me luck,” he murmured before walking back to the house. 

Once he had removed his beekeeping suit, he started on the walk into the village. It was a beautiful morning, clear and bright. If he were superstitious, he would say it was a good omen. On reaching the village, he purchased a paper from the general shop. He would read it, and do the crossword, on the train. He did not have a long wait and was soon on his way to London. 

It did not take him long to read the paper. There was not much in it of great interest to him. Instead, he turned his attention to solving the cryptic crossword. This had fast become a hobby of his, one which he found satisfying, even though the puzzles were not always complex enough to tax him overly. 

On arriving in London, he hailed a cab to take him to Watson’s practice in Kensington. He spoke to the maid on arrival, who informed him that Watson was not busy and that he could go straight in. Still feeling nervous, he knocked on Watson’s door. 

“Come in,” called the familiar voice of his beloved. 

Holmes opened the door and stepped in. “Hello, my dear Watson.” 

Once he had closed the door behind him, they went to each other and embraced. Holmes leaned down and they kissed softly, lingering to share their warm affection. 

When they pulled away, Holmes murmured, “John, you feel like heaven.” 

Watson laughed and pressed another gentle kiss to Holmes’s lips. “Retirement has made you sentimental, my love.” 

Holmes tried to huff at this, but his amusement shone through. “How have things been with you here?” he asked. 

“All well,” Watson replied, “although I have been finding myself feeling more tired at the end of each week. I’ve been passing on many of my patients to my colleague.” 

Holmes nodded. He understood this. Although his pleasure at taking on difficult cases had by no means diminished over the years, he too had found an encroaching tiredness creeping up on him until he had retired. They simply no longer had the stamina they had possessed in their younger years. 

“I wonder, then, whether you might soon do me the honour of joining me in retirement,” Holmes said, screwing up his courage. 

Watson smiled. “I would love to, Sherlock.” 

Holmes grinned. “The bees will be thrilled.”


	2. New Pursuits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'New Pursuits'.

I am sure that it would surprise nobody to learn that Holmes took up a range of new pursuits in retirement. My darling is not very good at doing nothing, always needing some sort of stimulation to stave off boredom. Of course, his bees took up a large amount of his time, as tending to the garden occupied me. He had one particular new hobby that I was keen to encourage him in, and that was sea swimming. 

Most mornings when the weather was suitable, after having breakfast and checking on his hives, he would change into his bathing suit and set out on the path leading to the beach. Once there, he would stride confidently into the sea (barring a few yelps at the cold) and swim up and down several times. I would often accompany him on these trips, watching him from the shore as he swam. When he emerged from the sea, I would wrap him in a large fluffy towel and press soft kisses to his cold nose and cheeks. He would always blush beautifully when I did this, only encouraging me to continue. 

One bright July morning, I decided that I would actually join him in swimming. He grinned at the gasp I let out as I entered the cold water. 

“It is cold, is it not, my dear?” he remarked with a laugh. 

I huffed amusedly. “Very cold, dearest. But I believe that is rather the point.” 

“I think of it rather as invigorating,” he said. “Once you start swimming, you’ll be fine.” 

He was right, as usual. Once I got moving, I no longer felt cold. On the contrary, I felt energised, my skin tingling. 

“How did you find it?” he asked me as we walked up the beach. 

“Very good,” I replied. “I feel revitalised. I can see why you enjoy it so much.” 

He hummed in acknowledgement as he wrapped a towel around his shoulders, and then enveloped me in the other. He wrapped his arms around me and leant down to kiss me gently, his nose nuzzling against mine. When he pulled away, a delightful blush was on his cheeks. Realising, he shushed me, then took my hand to walk back to the cottage.


	3. My Anchor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'Holmes comforting Watson after a nightmare'.

I was running hard, feet pounding the rocking path. Cold terror curled in my gut, and my lungs burned with the exertion. Up ahead, I could dimly hear the roar of the falls. 

I plunged on, desperate to reach Holmes before it was too late. I cursed my stupidity for believing the forged note. Anything that had befallen him would be my fault, because of my disloyalty in abandoning him to his fate. 

At last, I reached the ledge above the falls. I could see no trace of Holmes or his dreadful adversary, and I called out for him until my throat was raw. In despair, I looked down to the base of the falls, where the water plunged and foamed. I saw Holmes’s body lying there, broken. 

My heart shattered, and I sobbed. Desperately, fruitlessly, I continued to call his name, begging for him to come back to me. 

With a start, I woke. I was shaking, my face wet with tears, my breathing fast and shallow. I took great gulps of air, trying to steady myself, as I rolled over to find Holmes looking at me with great concern. I clung to him, using him as an anchor point as my anguish dissipated. He spoke soothingly to me, one hand rubbing little circles on the small of my back. 

“It’s alright, John,” he murmured. “You’re here with me. We’re both safe.” 

At last, my breathing settled, and I relaxed my grip on him. He gathered me securely into his arms and pressed a soft kiss to my temple. 

“Where were you, my love?” he asked tentatively. 

“At Reichenbach,” I answered, my voice small. “I could see your body, lying at the bottom.” 

He tightened his arms slightly around me. “You called out for me,” he said. “You were blaming yourself. You do know that everything that happened in Switzerland was entirely my doing, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” I replied. “I know that, of course. But the unconscious mind is not logical.” 

He hummed in agreement. “Do you want to sleep some more?” he asked. 

I nodded, still feeling tired. “Will you hold me?” 

He kissed my temple again. “Of course. I have you, mon trésor.” 

Breathing in his warm, comforting scent, and listening to his steady heartbeat, I eventually drifted back to sleep.


	4. A Little Bit Rustic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'rustic'.

One thing that I started to do more of, and found that I greatly enjoyed, when I moved to Sussex was baking. Holmes has always had a sweet tooth, and I loved making cakes to share with him. I learned to make a variety of things. My scones went down very well, smeared with honey from his hives and jam that I had made from berries scavenged from bushes on the paths around our cottage. Various different tarts were also successful, indeed some hardly touched the sides. He was particularly keen on my custard tarts, savouring them slowly with a broad smile of pleasure. He would be especially cuddly after I had made them, the sweetness of his kisses an easy match for the sugar. 

I was keen to master making bread, as that would save some of the trips we had to make into the village. I rose early one day, thinking that I would prepare breakfast and make a start on some bread for lunch. Holmes stirred slightly as I slid away from him. I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” I murmured. “I won’t be long.” 

He mumbled sleepily and rolled himself back up in the blankets. I chuckled fondly, then left the bedroom. 

The early morning light was spilling into the kitchen, dousing everything in a golden glow. I quickly whipped up a batch of scones, which I would take upstairs on a tray with a pot of tea. After that, I set to making the bread. I mixed the dough, then spent several minutes kneading it. The process of stretching and pounding the dough was satisfying, if a little messy. Once the ball of dough was looking glossy, I put it back into the mixing bowl and covered it to prove. I then turned my attention back to my scones and making a pot of tea. 

A few minutes later, I re-entered our bedroom, bearing the scones and tea upon a tray. Holmes was just waking, and he regarded me with a soft smile. 

“Breakfast in bed, John?” he said. “You’re spoiling me.” 

I put down the tray on the bedside table, then joined him in the bed and drew him into a kiss. He smiled again when we pulled away. 

“If I can’t spoil my sweetheart a little, what’s the point?” I teased him gently. 

He giggled. “Well, this is certainly lovely. And I am hungry.” 

We shared the scones and the tea, chatting about our plans for the day. When we were finished, he went out to tend to his bees, and I returned to the kitchen to continue with the next steps in making my bread. 

The dough had doubled in size. I knocked it back and went through the kneading process again. Once again, I covered it for its second prove. While this was happening, I went out into the garden to finish some pruning I had started the day before. 

After a couple of hours in the garden, the bread had to go into the oven. By the time it was ready to come back out, Holmes had come inside, ready for lunch. When I took the loaf out of the oven, we both laughed. It had cooked into a bizarre shape, with lumps and bumps that certainly had not been there when I put it in. 

“That’s … interesting,” Holmes said, wiping his eyes. 

“I think we might call it rustic,” I responded, still chuckling. “Besides, I’m sure it will still taste good.”


	5. A Moment of Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'train ride'.

Holmes and I were returning from a long day out, further up the coast. It had started to go dark, and we had a first class carriage to ourselves. The conductor had long since ceased doing his rounds. Holmes reclined across me, and I had my arms around him. All was peaceful. 

“Did you enjoy today, John?” he asked me. 

“Yes, I did,” I replied. “It was lovely to see somewhere new with you. Did you enjoy it?” 

“Yes,” he said. He was clearly in a pensive mood, because he paused before continuing. “I never used to consider trips without some definite purpose to be worthwhile. Spending time with you, not really doing much, has been a revelation. Doing very little with someone very dear is the most worthwhile way to spend time.” 

Quite ridiculously, tears sprung to my eyes. I pressed a soft kiss to his temple and tightened my arms around him. 

“I quite agree, dearest,” I murmured.


	6. Nursing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'Watson catches a cold. Holmes freaks out a bit at first, but he soon nurses him back to health admirably'.

One winter’s morning, I woke before Watson and decided that I would make us some tea to drink in bed before rising properly. I slipped out of the bed carefully to avoid waking him. I needn’t have worried. He merely burrowed more deeply under the covers and slept on. 

When I reached the kitchen, I spent several moments admiring the garden. Under the slowly increasing morning light, the fresh coating of frost sparkled. All was quiet and still, giving the illusion that I was alone in the world. I set the kettle to boil, then went to place our empty milk bottles outside for collection. 

Once the tea was made, I ascended the stairs again, bearing the mugs on a tray. Watson was still snoozing when I re-entered the bedroom, but I could see he was beginning to stir. 

“Good morning, my darling,” I greeted him softly as I joined him in the bed again. 

He grunted, pushing himself up. “Good morning, love,” he mumbled. “I’m not feeling very well, I’m afraid.” 

This was succeeded by a fit of coughing. I looked at him with concern, seeing that he did look rather pale. When his coughing ceased and he sat back against the pillows, I kissed his forehead softly. 

“You do feel rather warm, sweetheart,” I said. “I think you probably ought to stay in bed.” 

“I expect you’re right,” he agreed. “But a mug of tea might help.” 

With a chuckle, I passed his mug to him. We sipped our tea in comfortable silence for a while. I listened to his sniffly breathing, knowing I would likely have to look after him for a few days until his energy returned. This was not a particularly happy prospect. As Watson would attest, I am not very good at attending to my own comforts if left to myself. Having the responsibility of nursing him worried me. Perhaps he could see this in my face, because he offered me a soft smile. 

“What shall you do today?” he asked me. 

“I shall look after you, of course,” I replied with an answering smile. “And perhaps I shall begin work on the monograph on the significance of bee flight patterns I have been planning.” 

“It sounds fascinating,” he said, without any of his habitual enthusiasm. 

“It is,” I responded, “but you don’t want to hear about it now. You should get some more sleep.” 

He nodded and passed his mug back over to me. He settled back down and pulled the covers up. As his eyes closed, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, then I withdrew to let him rest. 

Over breakfast, I pored over various recipe books, searching for suitable things to aid my darling’s recuperation. When I had finished, I headed into the village with a list of necessary ingredients, coming back laden down with bags. I surprised myself by my level of competence in the kitchen, having never attempted anything even remotely complicated before. I prepared a broth for him, which would not only be easy on his throat but would also hopefully begin to restore his energy. 

When I carried the bowl up to the bedroom on the tea tray, he was sitting up in bed, reading his book. 

“How are you feeling now?” I asked hopefully. 

“A little better,” he replied. “The extra sleep helped.” 

“Good,” I said with relief. “I made this for you.” 

I handed the tray to him and he arranged it on his lap. “Thank you, Sherlock.” 

He picked up the spoon and tasted the broth. “Mm, it’s good,” he said. “Did you manage it without burning down the kitchen?” 

I laughed. “Yes, dear. The kitchen is intact.” 

I could detect a suspicion of a twinkle of merriment in his eyes. Although he was still unwell, I knew he would soon be back to full health.


	7. Gentle Worship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'extra pounds'.

It was the end of the day. Holmes and Watson were cuddled up on the sofa, each with a book. Watson’s hand had found its way under the hem of Holmes’s shirt, and his thumb was rubbing small circles on the soft skin of Holmes’s waist. Holmes noticed that Watson’s attention had begun to wonder. 

“What are you thinking about, my love?” Holmes asked. 

“Just about how much I love your fuller figure,” Watson responded. 

Holmes chuckled. “I adore your fuller figure too,” he said. 

Watson laughed too. “I believe you have mentioned it, darling.” 

Holmes reached up and they kissed, warmly and full of promise. At a questioning touch, Holmes opened his lips for Watson, and their tongues danced pleasurably. When they eventually pulled away, both were smiling. 

“Let’s go to bed, John,” Holmes murmured. 

“Yes, let’s,” Watson agreed. 

With hands clasped together and giggling like boys, they made their way upstairs. They made love tenderly, worshipping each other in every way they could. They held each other afterwards, sipping gentle kisses as they enjoyed their afterglow. 

“I love you,” Holmes murmured, stroking Watson’s soft tummy with light fingers. “You’re so beautiful, John.” 

Watson skimmed a hand down Holmes’s back to rest on his plush bottom, and gave a gentle squeeze. “I love you too,” he murmured back. “You’re magnificent.” 

They soon fell asleep, listening to each other’s heart beats.


	8. Dangerous Activities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'dangerous'.

One of the wonderful things about our cottage is its seclusion. It took some time for me to get used to the freedom which this afforded us. Holmes would often wrap his arms around me or kiss me in the garden, then break into uproarious laughter at my shock. Even holding hands was sometimes enough to produce this effect. 

One summer day, I decided that I would get my own back on him. He was coming back from tending to his bees, when I met him on the garden path. Stepping close to him, I lifted the net of his headgear like a bridal veil. Then I drew him into a deep kiss, wrapping my arms securely around him. I felt him smile against my lips, a happy warmth permeating my entire body. 

When we pulled away, he murmured, “Isn’t this rather dangerous, my love?” 

I laughed at his teasing. “You arse,” I admonished him lightly, making him giggle. “Weren’t you at least a little surprised?” 

“Yes, darling,” he replied with a warm smile. “This is a lovely surprise.” 

We tumbled happily into another kiss, our only witnesses the flowers and the bees.


	9. Grandparents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'modern AU'.

Emily felt the smallest twinge of anxiety as she rapped on the door of the cottage. This was unusual, but then the reason for her visit was also unusual. As she had no grandparents, when they had been told at school to write a letter to an elderly relative she had chosen to write to the couple in the cottage. She liked them. They were kind to her. Dr Watson made the most amazing shortbread, and Mr Holmes would always teach her interesting new things. 

Before long, her knock was answered by Dr Watson. “Hello, Emily,” he greeted her with a smile. “Would you like to come in? I’ve just finished making some shortbread, so you’d better get to it before Sherlock eats it all.” 

She laughed and stepped inside. How he always seemed to have a fresh batch of biscuits whenever she went round, she would never work out. “There’s a reason I came today,” she said. “We had to write a letter to our grandparents at school, and I wanted to give it to you in person.” 

Dr Watson was clearly touched by this. “That’s very kind of you, my dear,” he said, his voice slightly muffled. “Come and sit at the table and I’ll call Sherlock in. He’s out with his bees.” 

He went to the door, opened it, and called out, “Dearest, tea’s ready. And Emily’s here with something for us.” 

While Dr Watson bustled about with the tea and biscuits, Mr Holmes came in, still removing his beekeeping gear. 

“We weren’t expecting you today,” he said. “It’s lovely to see you. Did you learn anything good at school today?” 

“Not much,” she said with a shake of the head. “But I’m doing well with that book on bees that you leant me. Are you sure you don’t need it back?” 

“If I need it, I know where it is,” he said. “Now, what did you want to give us?” 

She took the letter out of her pocket. “This. We had to write letters to our grandparents at school, and I don’t have any except you.” 

Mr Holmes took the letter with a soft smile. “That’s awfully kind. Thank you.” 

While Mr Holmes began to read, Dr Watson set the tea pot and the biscuits on the table. 

“Would you like some tea, Emily?” he asked. 

“Yes please, granddad,” she said without thinking. She blushed when she realised what she had said, looking at the surprise on both their faces. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, “I shouldn’t have said that.” 

Dr Watson smiled broadly. “It’s quite alright, my dear. You can call me that if you want to.” 

She sighed with relief, reaching out for some shortbread. She loved afternoons with her grandfathers.


	10. Warfare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'snowball fight'.

It had been a cold autumn. Holmes and I awoke on 1st December to find that it had gone even colder, and snow had fallen overnight. It was beautiful, the shapes of the countryside smoothed out by the thick blanket and the sunlight dancing on the crystalline flakes. As we breakfasted, our eyes kept drifting to the window, unable to stay away from the scene outside. 

After we had finished eating, we both dressed in our warmest clothes and headed out. Holmes wanted to check on his hives, while I remained in the garden, admiring the scene still more. Some minutes passed before I decided to follow him. He did not heed my approach, so absorbed was he in his work. Feeling in a playful mood, I snuck up behind him and threw a snowball at his back. 

He spun around with a yelp of surprise, then he began to laugh. Scooping up snow, he retaliated. It was soon full-scale warfare, and the air was filled with our laughter and shouts. 

When we eventually stopped, he came over to me and wrapped his arms around me. His eyes sparkled as he dipped his head for a kiss. Our lips lingered for a few seconds before we drew back to rest our foreheads together. Smiling, I pressed a soft kiss to the cold tip of his nose. 

“Come on, my love,” I murmured. “Let’s go back inside and I’ll make us some cocoa.” 

“Cuddles and cocoa,” he mused. “That sounds perfect.”


	11. Cold Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'jagged'.

I had moved very slowly all day, the lengthy cold spell we were in having almost rendered me in need of my cane. Consequently, I had done very little except shuffle around the house, drinking plenty of tea and reading by the fire. Holmes had been in London all day, visiting Mycroft and doing some shopping that I was strictly not know about. Since he had arrived back, all of his attentions had been focussed on warming me up and reducing the terrible aches in my leg and shoulder. 

While I snuggled under layers of blankets on the bed, Holmes stoked up the fire in our grate. After stripping off, he joined me in bed. He snuggled up to my back so that I might share his body heat. 

“How do you feel now, mon trésor?” he asked. 

“Much warmer, thank you darling,” I replied. 

His hands caressed my stomach, and he nuzzled a kiss behind my ear. I sighed with pleasure as he trailed kisses down my neck, then directed his attention to my scars. He nuzzled and kissed the jagged lines and ridges reverently. 

“Lovely,” I breathed, and he chuckled against my skin. 

After a few more kisses, he settled down. He held me securely against him, and his breath ghosted over the back of my neck. 

“If it’s as cold again tomorrow,” I said sleepily, “I may just stay in bed all day.” 

He chuckled again. “I will gladly join you, my darling.”


	12. The Wonders of Summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'dungarees'.

“Whatever are you wearing, John?” I asked incredulously as he entered the kitchen clad in a strange set of overalls. 

He laughed. “They’re called dungarees, darling. They’ve become quite popular recently, and I thought they would be good for doing the gardening in.” 

“Hum. Well, they do look practical, I suppose,” I considered. 

“They’re every bit as practical as your beekeeping suit,” he replied. “Anyway, I must get on.” 

He kissed me briefly, then grabbed his sunhat from the table and went over to the door. 

“I shall be out soon,” I told him. 

He nodded, then went out into the garden. I watched him through the window as I finished my mug of tea. His sunhat was quite preposterous, with a large brim that flopped down, but he insisted it was perfect for keeping the sun out of his eyes. When he knelt down to weed one of his flowerbeds, I was afforded an excellent view of his backside. The dungarees fitted him well, accentuating his now rather fuller curves. I had intended to be scathing about his choice of clothing, but I realised I could not be. Growing old by his side has truly provided an embarrassment of riches. 

My tea finished, I attired myself in my beekeeping gear and went out to attend to my hives in the meadow. My bees had been busy in the hot weather, so this took me rather longer than was usual. Watson was still engrossed in his gardening when I walked back past him to the cottage. It was certainly time for him to take a break. 

I prepared a pot of tea and arranged some biscuits on a small plate. I carried out 2 mugs of tea and the plate of biscuits on a tray. 

“I’ve got some tea for you, darling,” I said as I approached him. 

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” he responded, straightening up. His knees cracked slightly, and he rubbed his back. “I think I’ve been in one position for too long.” 

With a slight chuckle, I led him to the garden bench. We sat side by side, and I passed him his tea. As we shared the biscuits, I noticed that he had abandoned his sandals. His feet would be terribly dirty by the end of the day. He would certainly have to soak them in a bowl of warm water when he came in. Perhaps I would offer to wash them for him, massaging his feet until he sighed. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked me. 

“Just the wonder of the summer,” I replied with a smile. Retirement has truly made a romantic of me, but I find I do not mind a bit.


	13. In From the Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'agonizing'.

The day had been cold, with a biting wind and swirling snow. Holmes and Watson had spent most of their time indoors, with the fires stoked up. As they laid together in bed, Holmes’s mind drifted back to the first winter he had spent on the run. 

The cold had been agonizing then, and he had seldom had the opportunity to get really warm. He had been alone, and hungry, and despairing. Even the memory made him shiver. All he had wanted then was to go home, to retreat to safety and comfort. But there had been no way for him to do that, because to have gone home then would have been to bring his Watson into terrible danger. 

Watson mumbled a little in his sleep, bringing Holmes back to the present. He tightened his arms around his darling, snuggling deeper into the warm embrace with a happy sigh. He thanked God that he would never have to feel cold like that again.


	14. Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'Watson keeps getting gifts from a ‘secret’ admirer leading up to Valentine’s day, but it’s pretty obvious who they’re from.'

It was a week before Valentine’s day that I first received a gift from my ‘secret’ admirer. An envelope came through our day containing two packets of seeds, one of roses and one of violets, with a card. This read ‘Roses are red, Violets are blue. The bees love your flowers, and I love you.’ When I looked up at Holmes across the breakfast table, he was trying desperately to hold in a smirk. He evidently wanted to be mysterious, so I let the matter rest. 

The next day brought a small bunch of snowdrops. I pretended not to notice that they were in one of our vases. A note was attached to the neck of the vase with a ribbon, reading ‘A token to remind you of the coming spring, my dearest.’ I set the vase in the middle of our kitchen table, remarking how lovely the delicate flowers were. Holmes would not be drawn, but I could detect a small smile of pleasure. 

On the third day I received a package of biscuits. I was proud of him for having made them himself. He had been acquiring more culinary skills since nursing me through a cold earlier in the winter, and his creations were generally good. We shared the biscuits over our afternoon tea. 

The fourth day brought with it a knitted scarf. This was another skill that he had been working on since we had retired, and he had evidently been sneaky to get it finished without me noticing. I wore it when we walked into the village in the morning and did not miss his smile when I remarked on how cosy it was. 

I received a new notebook on the fifth day, a smart one bound in beautiful leather. I had been meaning to start writing some small works of fiction for children and stated that I would use it for that purpose. He replied that it sounded ideal, so I had evidently hit upon his reasoning. 

On the sixth day I received some artwork. He had carefully sketched and painted an assortment of the wildflowers around our cottage, not forgetting the addition of a few bees. I was thrilled, and I said so. The broadness of his smile at the compliment was difficult to conceal. 

On Valentine’s day itself, I woke to his gentle kisses. 

“Happy Valentine’s day, mon trésor,” he murmured. 

“This is the best present of all,” I replied. “I love you, my Valentine.” 

“How did you know they were from me?” he asked, trying to sound annoyed through his smile. 

“Oh sweetheart,” I said with a laugh, “you weren’t terribly subtle. But I loved them all, nevertheless. May I give you your gift now?” 

He nodded. I kissed him deeply, and it was my turn to neglect subtlety by skimming my hands down his back to squeeze his gorgeous backside. He laughed against my lips.


	15. Comfort for the Grumpy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has double inspiration. The prompt was 'damp', and I was also inspired by 'Milk and Toast and Honey' by Roxette.

While Holmes was in the meadow tending to his bees, the heavens opened. I knew that he would be far enough on in the process that he could not abandon it and come back in, so he would have to stay out and get soaked while he finished. The rain was of that intensity that has one soaked to the skin in a matter of minutes, so I knew he would be grumpy when he got back in. 

Feeling rather glad that I had not ventured out, I set about preparing things to warm him up when he came back inside. I put the kettle on to boil for a pot of tea, then began to make him one of his favourite comfort foods. 

The tea had brewed, and his toast was almost done when he came back in. 

“It’s awful out there, John,” he groused. “I am absolutely sodden.” 

“I can see that, my love,” I replied. “There’s a blanket for you by the fire. Get out of your wet clothes, and I’ll bring tea through for you.” 

He hurried through, and I could hear muttering as he removed his wet layers. I poured the tea and spread a thick layer of honey on his toast, then took it all through on a tray. 

He was wrapped up in the blanket, his hair all sticking up on end from the removal of his outer layers. He smiled as I approached with my offerings. 

“You do know how to pamper me, my darling,” he remarked as I took my place beside him. “Thank you.” 

I handed him his tea, then reached up to ruffle his soft hair. “Tea and toast are the best healers of a damp and grumpy beekeeper,” I said fondly. 

“And cuddles,” he added hopefully. 

I chuckled and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Yes, cuddles too.”


	16. Peaceful Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'lush'. And it's Pancake day!

It was a warm day in late summer when Holmes and I decided to make the most of the long day by having our supper outside. We had pancakes for dessert, and my beloved decided he was an expert in the art of flipping, resulting in a mess. 

When we had shared what was left, covered in lemon and sugar, we lay down in the lush grass, side by side. I turned my head to look at him. Traces of sugar lingered around his lips, and the golden light was tinging the silver of his hair. He was gorgeous. I couldn’t resist kissing him, tasting the remaining sugar, and stroking his soft hair. 

He smiled when we pulled away. “There’s a sort of magic in these summer evenings, isn’t there my love?” he murmured. 

I nodded. As ever, he had summed it up perfectly. There was nothing left to do but to kiss him again, revelling in the peaceful hours we had earned.


	17. A Wonderful World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'Holmes talking about his childhood'.

One summer evening, Watson and I decided to sit out on the cliffs near our cottage to watch the sun go down. The sky seemed almost to catch on fire as the sun made its final descent towards the horizon. It put me into a reflective mood. 

“You know, my family used to holiday on the coast sometimes when I was young,” I said. 

“Really?” Watson replied. “You have never spoken much about your childhood.” 

I tightened my arm around him slightly and he rested his head against my shoulder. 

“Mine was a lonely childhood, John,” I continued. “I had no friends. My parents were utterly disinterested, and I was raised by a nanny and a governess until I could be sent to school. There was Mycroft, of course, but he was so much older than me that I scarcely saw him in my younger days.” 

“My poor love,” he murmured sympathetically, stroking my arm. 

I smiled a little and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

“At university, I met Victor,” I went on. “He was wonderful, and we explored our passions with each other very happily. As you know, that came to an unhappy end when I failed his father. After that, I devoted myself to my work and lost myself to cocaine and morphine. Then there was you.” I shifted so that I could caress his cheek with one hand. “You saw _me_ , not just my brain. I wanted to be the man you thought I was. You saved me, my love. You made me happy, truly happy, for the first time.” 

He turned his head to kiss my palm softly, then gathered me into his arms. He held me tight, protecting me from the world as he always had. But he didn’t need to anymore, because he had become my world. And what a wonderful world.


	18. The Village Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'yielding'.

It pleased me no end when I found out that our village has an annual flower and vegetable show. I decided that I would enter some of the flower classes, as the garden was coming along beautifully. I also wanted to enter some of the baking classes as well. I mentioned to Holmes that it might be fun if he were to take part as well. 

“Don’t be daft, John,” he dismissed the suggestion. “I know that you are kind enough to say that you enjoy my attempts at baking, but I am well aware that other people would not consider them good.” 

I sighed fondly. Evidently my darling would require more persuasion to believe in his own talents. 

“Nonsense, darling,” I said. “Your baking _is_ good. I’m sure that other people would agree with me.” 

He shook his head. “No, your judgment is biased by your affection for me. You shall not persuade me.” 

There I was forced to let the matter rest until several days later, when we received an unexpected visit from one of the ladies who ran a small café in the village. She had wanted to ask Holmes about purchasing a supply of honey for use in their baking, but he chanced to be out on an errand. It had been unlucky that she had missed him in the village, I told her, and invited her to stay for a spot of tea. She accepted readily and we fell into easy conversation about the forthcoming show. 

It was then that an idea struck me. “I am trying to persuade Holmes to enter some baking in the show, but he doesn’t believe that he is good enough,” I said. “Would you be willing to try something of his and to give him an honest opinion?” 

“I would be happy to,” she replied. 

I cut her a slice of the Victoria sponge he had made the day before, and he walked in just as she was taking her first bite. He looked accusingly at me, evidently realising what I was trying to do. 

“This is wonderful, Mr Holmes,” she said, looking up at him. “You really _should_ consider entering the show.” 

“Did Watson tell you to say that?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Not at all,” she insisted. “It is my honest opinion.” 

Reading no hint of falsehood in her eyes, he had to yield to my suggestion. I believe he was secretly pleased to do so, as he is quite a peacock. When the show came around, it was with great pride that I saw he had won prizes for everything he had entered.


	19. Joyful Forgetfulness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'Holmes offers to show Watson his notes from his early cases, but it’ll cost him a kiss a page'.

My Watson has long wanted to have notes on my early cases. I have always been rather reluctant to share them with him, worrying lest letting him read the bumbling efforts of my younger self should diminish his admiration and affection. Watching him poring over some of his old notes in preparation for a new publication, however, I realised that these concerns were foolish. If he still wished to see my early notes, I would let him, but I would ask a price. 

I duly retrieved some bundles of notes from their storage in the attic and returned to the sitting room. He was still at his desk, busily employed in writing up his notes into a manuscript. Although I have criticised his writing in the past, it always pleases me to see his success. 

“John, might I interrupt you for minute?” I asked. He looked round, giving me his attention. “I wondered whether you were still interested in taking notes on my early work.” 

“Of course, I am,” he replied with a slight smile. “But you have never been willing to share them with me.” 

I cleared my throat. “I am willing to share them with you, but I do have a price.” 

He chuckled. “And what that might that be, pray?” 

“A kiss a page,” I replied with a smirk. “And they must be good kisses, or it doesn’t count.” 

He laughed again. “You are cheeky, my darling,” he said. “It’s a deal.” 

Within half an hour, all thoughts of my old notes had vanished amid joyful kisses. We were blushing and giggly, enraptured with the taste and feeling of each other’s lips. He would call in his earnings at a later date, but that didn’t matter.


	20. Consulting for a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'sleep'.

“Alright, Holmes, detail the facts for me again,” I said. Although we were both tired, his enthusiasm was infectious and was powering us both through. 

“Very well,” he replied. His eyes sparkled, and he steepled his fingers before him in his old habitual posture. “Yesterday, our friend Mrs Myrtle who owns the café was burgled. The police found that the lock had been picked, but nothing else had been disturbed. No money had disappeared from the till, only an ornament that had previously belonged to her mother had been taken. According to the history the lady had of the object from her mother, it is of no great value. She cannot imagine why anyone would wish to steal it.” 

“And have you any preferred theory, my love?” I asked. 

“As the ornament had been acquired by the mother’s childhood sweetheart on his journey through Africa, I believe it may have some tribal significance,” he mused. “The theft may be related to that, or it could be some connection of that man wishing to take revenge upon the family of the woman who spurned him. I shall have to think it out a while longer.” 

I smiled at him. “Well, I shall gladly sit with you whilst you do. I think I will make us a cup of tea.” 

“Thank you, my dear,” he responded. He took my hand as I passed him and pressed a light kiss to the back. “A cup of tea sounds ideal. I shall smoke and think on.” 

As I went into the kitchen, he took up his clay pipe. This really was just like the old days, and it excited me as much as it did him. It had been Mrs Myrtle herself who had chosen to consult with him, having got no satisfactory response from the police. We had spent some time in going over the place and talking with her in the morning and spoken to the police in the afternoon. He had been deep in thought since dinner. I had tried to help where I could, mostly acting a sounding board for his theories. 

When I had made the tea, I carried our mugs through and took my place beside him again. As we drank, and he smoked, we discussed the merits of his various theories over and over. I could feel my eyelids becoming heavy, and at some point, I must have succumbed to sleep. I awoke in the morning to find Holmes snuggled up to me, a blanket tucked over us. I chuckled to myself and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. He must have come to a satisfactory conclusion in the end and decided to join me in my slumber. I knew that we would both be stiff that day from having slept on the settee, but it had been worth it to regain a taste of the thrill of our old work.


	21. Escaping Attention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'capture'.

I was perusing the shelves of the general shop, looking for any publications of interest, when Holmes rushed to my side. 

“We need to go, Watson,” he muttered urgently, pulling on my sleeve. “We need to go home right now.” 

“Whatever for?” I said with annoyance. I knew that he didn’t like shopping, but this was silly. 

“Look over there,” he said, inclining his head towards the corner. 

I looked, and saw there a woman who had fairly recently moved to the village to join her daughter’s family. She had taken a shine to Holmes, and was always trying to draw him into conversation. Her flirting was obvious and her conversation dull. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen us yet, so I acquiesced and followed him out of the shop. 

We walked quickly out of the village, making good our escape while she was still distracted. Once we were a sufficient distance away and sure of our seclusion, he took my hand. As I always had, I found the warmth of his hand in mine comforting. He swung our joined hands slightly between us, making me laugh, then he pulled me into a brief kiss. 

“What was that for?” I asked when he pulled away. 

“No reason,” he replied. “Just because I love you.” 

I grinned. “The elation of evading capture has made you giddy, I see.” 

He laughed. “Perhaps, my dear. But I love you very much, all the same.”


	22. An Interesting Fact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'poisonous flowers in the garden'.

Holmes and I were sitting on the bench in our garden, enjoying the later afternoon sun and sipping mugs of tea. His bees buzzed around us, their industriousness directly contrasting with our laziness. I rested my head against his shoulder, and he looped an arm around my waist. 

“John, what are those tall flowers called?” he asked. “The ones with the bell-shaped blooms.” 

“Those are foxgloves, my dear,” I replied. 

“Hum. The bees seem very keen on them,” he remarked. 

I nodded. “Yes, I had noticed that.” I incautiously added, “They’re also poisonous to humans.” 

“Really? That is certainly interesting.” I could almost hear the way his eyes lit up. 

“It may be interesting, dearest,” I said, “but I absolutely forbid you from experimenting on yourself.” 

He chuckled. “Very well, my love. For you, I promise to refrain.”


	23. Damaged Fruit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'nip'.

There was much talk in the village that an early frost was expected that night. When I got home, I duly took all my most delicate plants inside to protect them and wrapped up the least hardy of those that had to remain outside. 

When we woke the next morning, it was indeed very cold. I looked out of the window to see frost glittering on the grass of the lawn. It was beautiful, but I was worried that some of my plants may have been damaged. 

After breakfast, Holmes and I went out into the garden to check on the plants. Most of the had survived, but I noted with dismay that some of the developing fruits on the apple tree had been nipped by the frost. 

“It looks like we shall have fewer apples this year, my dear,” I said sadly. 

He came to my side and wrapped an arm around me. “It doesn’t look so bad,” he said. “I am grateful for any fruit we get.”


	24. Collecting Honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'Holmes teaches Watson how to properly retrieve honey from the hive without upsetting the bees'.

It was with no small amount of trepidation that I let Holmes lead me to the meadow and towards his beehives. I very rarely had anything to do with his beekeeping, and I worried lest I should upset his precious charges. 

Holmes seemed to sense this, for he turned to me and with a smile said, “You will be fine, my love. Just follow my direction, and all will be well.” 

I swallowed slightly, then replied, “Alright. Tell me what to do.” 

“First, take the smoker,” he said, holding it out to me. I took it. “Now, come here. Stand before me. We need to subdue the bees before removing the lid of the hive.” 

He moved my hands, directing the smoke through the slots in the sides of the hive. Next, he removed the lid of the hive and directed me to blow a little of the smoke inside. 

“Now we have to remove each of the frames in turn.” 

He moved my hands again to lift out one of the frames. Its surface was covered in wax, sealing in the honey. 

“To extract the honey, we have to slice away the capping wax,” he explained. He picked up the knife and handed it to me, then positioned the frame above a receptacle for the honey. “Slice away the wax from the bottom up. That will allow the honey to flow into the jug.” 

I began to slice the wax, and the golden liquid flowed down. It was truly beautiful, and I couldn’t help but smile. 

“It’s remarkable, darling,” I said, slightly in awe. 

He chuckled a little. “You are doing very well, dearest,” he said kindly. “I knew the bees would love you.” 

I laughed. “I’m not so sure about that, but they certainly seem to be tolerating me.” 

He gave me an affectionate squeeze. “Nonsense. I can tell their moods, and they clearly think you’re splendid.”


	25. Wounded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'help'.

It was the middle of the afternoon when Holmes came into the kitchen looking slightly ruffled. 

“John, I need your help,” he said. 

“What is it, my love?” I asked, feeling slightly alarmed. 

“My new hive has wounded me,” he announced dramatically. “Look.” 

He thrust his hand under my nose. When he was still, I could see that he had a splinter in his finger. Admittedly, it was a fairly large one, but not worthy of the dramatic nature of his entrance. 

“Sit yourself down at the table, and I’ll get my tweezers,” I said with fond annoyance. 

I left the room and was back in a moment with the tweezers and some sticking plasters. I sat down and took his hand in mine. 

“Just hold still,” I instructed him. 

He hissed slightly when I pulled out the splinter, and a small spot of blood formed at the site. The application of a tissue stopped the bleeding in a few moments. I pressed a gentle kiss to his wound, then applied the plaster. 

“There,” I said softly. “Good as new.” 

He smiled. “Thank you, my dear.”


	26. Unwanted Comments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'lewd'.

I was sitting in the kitchen, the crossword just completed, when the click of the garden gate signalled Watson’s return. I got up, my knees protesting slightly at the movement, and went into the hallway to greet him. He came through the door, laden with shopping bags and looking disgruntled. 

“Was your trip to the village successful, my dear?” I asked, moving forward to take a bag from him. 

“I got everything we needed,” he replied, “but I overheard a conversation in the shop that I wish I hadn’t.” 

I was curious. Conversation in the village was very rarely so bothersome. “That’s unusual,” I remarked, wanting to sound casual. 

He looked at me wryly. “As a matter of fact, it was a conversation about you,” he said. “Mrs Smythe was talking to Mrs Myrtle about you, and she made some rather lewd comments.” 

I chuckled slightly. “I can see why that would bother you, dearest.” 

“I don’t like the thought of her undressing you with her eyes,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “Besides, she doesn’t know how beautiful your soul is.” 

I smiled. “That is your privilege alone, mon trésor,” I told him. “Come here.” 

I gathered him into my arms, holding him tightly. He relaxed against me with a happy sigh, his arms circling my waist. The opinions of the world did not matter, not when I had him. And he was welcome to be as lewd as he liked.


	27. A Picnic on the Beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is 'mon petit chou'.

I was heading inside to the kitchen to begin preparations for lunch, when I found Holmes was in there already. He was loading things into a picnic basket on the table. I looked at him quizzically and he grinned. 

“I thought I would treat you to a picnic, my dear,” he said. “Would you mind fetching a blanket while I finish doing this?” 

I laughed and reached up to kiss his cheek. “That sounds wonderful, darling,” I said. “Thank you.” 

He caught my hand and gave it a squeeze before I went to fetch a suitable blanket. Within a few minutes, we were on our way. He carried the basket, I carried the blanket, and we held hands as we walked. He rubbed small circles on the back of my hand with his thumb and swung our hands slightly. 

He led me to the beach, and we laid out the blanket by some rocks at back. We cuddled together and shared the food, watching the waves tumbling on the shore. It felt as though we were in a peaceful bubble together. 

“What was this about, then?” I asked before pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

He smiled. “As I said, I wanted to treat you,” he replied. “I often think that I don’t do enough for you.” 

I gave him a squeeze. “Just to be with you is enough, my love,” I murmured. 

He kissed my forehead, and we continued to hold each other for a few moments longer. Then he released me and grinned. 

“Let’s go for a paddle,” he said, already working to remove his shoes. 

I chuckled fondly at this sudden change. “Alright, let’s,” I affirmed. 

We soon had our shoes and socks off, and headed down the beach, hand-in-hand. The water was cold enough to cause us both to gasp slightly, before giggling at each other. We stood together, letting the waves lap around our ankles, our arms wrapped around each other. He leant down to kiss me, and the cold of the water no longer mattered as his warm affection flowed through me. We smiled against each other’s lips, our noses nuzzling together. 

When we pulled away, he brought up a hand to caress my cheek. “I love you,” he murmured, “mon petit chou.” 

“That’s a new one,” I said. “What does it mean?” 

He chuckled slightly. “The literal translation is ‘my little cabbage’,” he replied. “But the sentiment means ‘my sweetheart’.” 

I smiled. He really was an old romantic. “I love you too,” I murmured, before drawing him into another kiss.


	28. Moments of Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final prompt is 'They go for a walk then sit under a tree and Holmes falls asleep with his head in Watson’s lap. Watson doesn’t mind, even when Holmes starts snoring.'

Holmes and I had been out for a day-long walk, exploring further into the Downs than we had yet been able to. Now, with our cottage in sight below, we settled ourselves under a tree on a hill to enjoy the late afternoon sunshine. We had some strawberries left over from lunch and we shared them between us. The final one was large, so I offered it to him for a bite, then finished it myself. I leaned in to kiss the remaining juice from his smiling lips, then he rested his head on my shoulder. We were both pleasantly weary from the day’s exertions and happy to sit in quiet contemplation. 

“Would you mind if I were to lie down, darling?” he asked softly after some minutes had passed. 

“Not at all,” I replied. 

We rearranged ourselves so that he lay with his head in my lap. I stroked my fingers through his soft, silvery hair and he hummed contentedly. 

“That’s lovely,” he murmured. 

I smiled down at him. “Are you comfortable?” I asked. 

He nodded. I continued to stroke his hair with one hand and held one of his with the other. The birds had become used to our presence, and I could hear them flitting about in the tree over our heads. At that moment, there was nowhere else I would rather have been. I told him this but received no answer. Looking down, I saw that he had fallen asleep. I chuckled fondly and laced my fingers through his. I would not disturb him, we were in no hurry. My thoughts began to run on what we might have for supper, then on to planning things that I might do with the garden over the remaining days of summer. We were truly blessed to have been able to retire to this place. In our cottage, and much of the secluded surroundings, our affection no longer had to be secretive. Sharing a kiss no longer meant the possibility of detection. We were finally free to love each other as warmly as we had always wished to. 

Gentle snores broke into my thoughts and I had to stop myself from laughing aloud. I looked down at my love again and saw that his mouth had fallen open slightly. Although he would not like me to say it, Holmes is adorable when he is sleeping. I smoothed his hair back from his forehead, then delicately traced the lines beside his eye with the tips of my fingers. I love the markers of the time with have spent together, of our life lived side-by-side. I let him sleep on, basking in the peace we had earned.


End file.
